Forever As One
by Salser
Summary: Beginning with the infamous wall scene, Liara refuses to believe Shepard is dead. From Liara's POV, an on-going, fluffilicious story about their reunion on Earth and their continuing romance. Does not follow any of BW's canon endings. Rated M for Liara/FShep sexual content in chapter 4, which is graced by a special appearance from the unrivalled T.A. Blackwell.
1. Chapter 1: Across the Stars

**A/N: read no further if you don't want spoilers for the ME3 Extended Cut. You've been warned!**

**This is not a retelling / interpretation of the EC, or an approval / disapproval of the endings. Neither are any of the endings "canon" in this story. It is merely a one-shot of the one scene I really wanted to see (!REUNION!), from Liara's POV. Happy endings abound! **

**This story begins with the Normandy wall scene. As per the EC, Javik convinced Joker to leave, and the whole crew knew Shep and Anderson were on the Citadel when things went ka-boom. That's how I head-canoned the "presumed dead", anyway. **

**This may expand into Shep and Liara's life post-ME3... or I may do another story from Shep's POV… or just stop writing ;). It all depends on what you, the reader, think… sound off with a review / PM, and I shall oblige (and if you like it, thank tayg, since I have to bribe her continually)!**

* * *

Goddess, no. Not again.

_Don't argue with me, Liara._

How I wanted to argue, will my broken body off the Normandy and to your side, where I belong. Where I will always belong. I am only vaguely aware of my surroundings, of the plaque I hold in my hands. Your ship mates, your friends, _our_ friends, stand around me, their heads bowed, the air muddy with their silence and their grief. Joker cannot look at me; even though we both know you would not fault our actions, it does not ease the burning guilt of desertion.

_You gotta get outta here… GO!_

I feel a gentle hand on my numb shoulder, and I realise I have been standing here, unseeing and unhearing, for far too long. I lift my head towards the hand's owner, not trusting myself to speak, even as a tear escapes my eye.

Tali, your sister, is there, as she has always been. Silently, she lifts her hand to her mask, a soft sigh permeating the room as she removes it. Garrus tenses visibly behind her, but she stays his hand as she passes him her only shield against the world. Her delicate eyes shimmer under the harsh lights of the Normandy, and she exhales slowly, her breath tremulous, as we make eye contact for the first time. She looks stricken, even as she closes her eyes and nods; no words are necessary.

_Shepard… I… I am yours._

My gaze drifts back to the wall, to the gleaming plaque proudly bearing Admiral Anderson's name. My entire body shakes of its own volition, as I remember you joking about asking him to give you away at our wedding. He was your father, the only one you ever knew. I feel like I am wading through water as I approach the wall, Tali's fingers lingering then falling off my shoulder. The plate I clutch in my hands is light, yet it weighs heavily on my chest, a constricting, tightly-wound corset which makes it even harder to draw breath.

_No matter what happens… you mean everything to me, Liara. You always will._

I run my finger over your name; the coolness of the metal soothes the fever in my heart, just as you would, were you here. I raise my arms against the impossible burden, but can only endure for a second. My heart is fraught with sorrow; it is all I can do to keep from crumpling to the floor. This moment… there is an air of finality about it that I cannot bear, an inevitability I cannot bring myself to accept.

_You are _not_ leaving me behind._

The look which crossed your face; I had never seen it on you. It was fear, terror at the realisation of what you were doing. But then your eyes softened, a lone tear tracing a defiant path through the grime and the sweat and the blood on your face. You stilled my searing heart with your unspoken words, your sworn oath.

_No matter what happens, I will fight till my lungs scream and my muscles burn and my vision fails to come back to you, Liara. I will never leave you again._

Something stirs within my chest, and a wistful smile flickers across my face. Somewhere out there, you are stubbornly defying death, searching for us, for me.

The plaque can wait.

* * *

Two solar months. That is how long it has taken us to repair the Normandy and travel back to Earth. Gone are the days of mass relay jumps; instead, we must rely on FTL travel. Two months felt like two centuries as I wandered the confines of the Normandy. Grief and longing are tenacious companions; they never really allow you to be alone.

Time trudges along, life playing at a fraction of its normal speed. It seems almost everything I see reminds me of you; the careless wisps of steam from Ashley's coffee cup, James' slightly crooked nose, Javik's unflappable presence, EDI's dry wit, Tali's perfect imitation of your snort, Garrus' forlorn trophy. I stare at the bottle, a red ribbon haphazardly tied around its neck, a terribly poor representation of a turkey drawn on its surface. The turkey's beak has been fashioned into a goofy smile; art was never your strong point. "King of the Bottle Shooters," reads the inscription. A melancholy smile crosses my face, as I recall the two of you returning to the Normandy that day. You wore an amused yet exasperated smirk, fingers tapping the grip of your Black Widow and a single eyebrow raised as Garrus paraded his victory over and over again for all to hear and see. He misses you, Shepard, more than you will ever know.

Comm buoys everywhere were down; it was not till we were within a few hundred light years of the Sol system that we received the first hails.

**You are alive.**

If only you were here to see the reaction, Shepard, to see how loved you truly are. At first, the silence was stunned, no one daring to break the moment, undo the magic. Then, the tears came, man, woman, turian, quarian, asari and synthetic finding comfort in each other's arms, as tears of joy faded into laughter and embarrassed sniffling. Only Javik's eyes remained dry, but I sensed his relief that day.

Time. It is too long for us who grieve, too slow for us who wait. From the moment Admiral Hackett's voice broke the news, I have been restlessly, impatiently awaiting our arrival on Earth, our transport to the hospital where you are being treated. Finally, we arrive, Hackett bringing me personally to your door; I do not even stop to consider what an honour I have been afforded. The others are dying to see you too, but they give me time and space. My heart hammers in my chest as I tentatively open the door.

"Hey, you."

My heart catches in my throat, and I find myself unable to move, save for the hand which is trying valiantly to hold back my sobs. You are here, alive, your eyes dancing, your happiness radiating from you like the energy of the sun. Its warmth is such a welcome balm.

"Liara, are you ok?"

The utter ridiculousness of your question makes me burst out laughing and crying in equal measure. There you are, lying in a hospital bed, your crooked, impish grin rebelliously wrestling against the constraints of the bandages adorning your face, asking me if _I_ am ok?

"Shepard… you silly…"

"Stubborn, dazzling sight for sore eyes?"

I see your injuries have not blunted your tongue. Your smile widens, you are chuckling now, completely oblivious to the fact that you have somehow managed to wriggle free of your bandages. They slip off your face, rumpling around your neck and sweeping your tousled hair into your face. Your sparkling eyes peek through the dishevelled mess, like a child playing hide-and-seek, your eyebrow twitching in glee. I am almost horrified to hear myself giggling at the sight; Joker and Tali would have a field day making this image your lasting legacy.

"Come here, you."

I find my stride again, and in an instant, I am by your side. No one, nothing, will ever separate us again. I ache to draw you in, embrace you and hold you forever. But I stay myself; Miranda told me you have some healing yet to do. It does not matter; I have you, and that is so much more than I had a few minutes ago. The silly grin never leaves my face as my eyes and hands drink up everything about you. I sweep your hair away from your face, never taking my eyes off yours.

My smile falters as my finger hovers over your new scar; it is too fresh a reminder of all I nearly lost. But you, you, as always, refuse to let such trivial matters ruin our intoxicating moment. Your touch is tender, your eyes at once adoring and empathetic and ardent as you lift your fingers to my chin, drawing me close. Our foreheads touch, and our eyes close; the air is so thick with emotion and enchanting, vivacious delight that neither of us dare breathe and unsettle it.

Our fingers interlace as our minds and souls entwine, enveloping each other in everything we are. I can feel again. I am completely lost in you as I savour it all; your smile against my face, the gentle breeze of your breath against my cheek, your heart beating in my chest, your strong arms cradling me.

_I love you, Shepard._

_I love you too, Liara. I am yours. Here… now… always._


	2. Chapter 2: Affirmation

**A/N: ok, I know I marked this complete, but the reaction was so overwhelming I decided to continue it. This will probably go on as long as you guys keep sounding off saying you want it to (or not…). And if you have any special requests, feel free to leave them in the comments section and I'll work them in as best I can :)**

**Warning. This chapter may just give you diabetes. I'm a hopeless romantic like that. Blame tayg, Akernis and Theodosius. They shamelessly encouraged it.**

**PS: hold your horses re: Nova et Vetera already… it'll get some lovin' over the weekend ;)**

* * *

Peace. Six months after the end of the Reaper War, four after my life was whole again, we finally have it. Miranda, Chakwas and their team of doctors have finally allowed you home; even though you have been walking, talking, laughing for weeks, they do not trust that you will not somehow break yourself again. I am actually silently grateful that they kept you hospitalised, knowing how you throw yourself into the fray.

Our friends have busied themselves making your apartment ready for you to come home to. The door opens, and you look around in pleasant surprise – the place is sparkling, new additions from every member of the crew making its utilitarian feel a distant memory. I hear you snort and glance over, seeing you shaking your head, an amused smirk on your face. Your gaze is fixed on Garrus' present, a perfect replica of the trophy you sardonically gifted him all those months ago. Well, a replica insofar as the "Second Place," and a pouting stick figure scrawled on the bottle goes.

You walk up to Tali's contribution, gingerly tracing a finger over the rising Rannoch sun, completely lost in its gentle, clement hues. "Thank you, Shepard. Because of you… I have this," reads the hand-carved inscription below the photograph. It is a view from her home, which we shall certainly visit when you are able to travel again. The look on your face, the rapture at the vista you fought so hard for, your bliss at your sister's serenity, they draw me into you. Everything about you is at once alluring, fresh and radiant; I wrap my arms around you, resting my cheek on your strong shoulders. You hum at the contact, and I feel your smile as lean your head against mine, your slender fingers gently caressing my crest. We stand like this, unspeaking and unseeing, for an unknowable length of time – for once, because we can. No more rushing, no more fighting, no more pain. Just… each other.

* * *

"Thank you for keeping me company, Ashley. I know Shepard would have appreciated having the day alone with Garrus and Tali – they have so much to catch up on."

Ashley smiles, although the look which comes across her face puzzles me a bit; it is almost… smug. She lays a gentle hand on my shoulder, even as she passes me the bag containing the fruits of today's labour. Although I sighed when Ashley practically squealed in excitement at the new mods on sale for the Black Widow, I know you would probably love what she got you. Ashley slaps the door open with her free hand, winking and giving me a gentle push, even as she turns me around.

"Have a good evening, Liara… T'Soni." She laughs as she walks off; what strange company you keep, Shepard. My bemusement swiftly gives way to surprise, as the bag slips from my fingers, its contents spilling haphazardly onto the floor; Garrus and Tali are nowhere in sight. The living room is completely dark, save for the row of candles adorning our dining table. The table itself is set for two, although the banquet weighing it down could probably have fed the Normandy's entire crew for a week. By the warm glow of candlelight, I can make out rose petals adorning the chairs. There appear to be some on the floor, but the light does not extend far enough for me to see where they lead.

Confused, I reach for the light switch, only for your gentle hand to grasp my wrist. You use your hold on me to turn me around slowly, pulling me into you. Your smile is bewitching as you lean in, your lips brushing oh so tantalizingly against mine; my knees are instantly weak. I want to take you in right there and then, but it seems you have other things on your mind. You lay the soft pulp of your finger against my lips, the smile never leaving your face as you practically carry me to the dining table.

"It would be a pity to let such a culinary feat go to waste, Dr T'Soni," you tease, as I reluctantly leave the comfort of your embrace and sit. You pour some wine, refusing to allow me to serve myself as you delicately portion food onto my plate. I had forgotten your aptitude in the kitchen; the day you taught me how to make the perfect fillet mignon seems so long ago. The food is divine, the wine delectable. It is such a welcome change from field rations and the drudgery of hospital fare.

Throughout the meal, during the natural pauses in conversation, I catch you gazing at me, a silly smile on your face and devotion, enchantment and worship in your eyes. You always look away so quickly when this happens, a darling rosy hue coming to your cheeks. How I could possibly be so lucky to engender such emotions from you, I do not know; I wish you knew how much I adore those looks. I almost tell you not to be embarrassed when you realise that I am watching you, but your blush is almost as beguiling as your adoration.

When you finish eating, you stand, laying both hands on my shoulders as you tenderly kiss my neck.

"I'm going to get changed. Come find me when you're done," you whisper. Your breath is so teasing against my skin – I reach to grab your hand, but you are already gone. I do not know whether to be frustrated or excited; I still have yet to finish my food. Quickly, I manage to clear my plate, not wanting to leave leftovers in case you worry the meal was not to my tastes. I stand and spin around, hurriedly heading towards the corridor leading away from the living room. It is not till I have taken a few steps that I realise the rose petals which I had seen on the floor earlier are tracing a path to that very corridor. My heart skips a beat in my chest; the petals feel so velvety underfoot, the texture slowing my eager stride.

I turn the corner, and my breath catches in my throat. A string of parchment dangles from the ceiling, running the length of the corridor to our bedroom. I recognise the script on them; it is in traditional asari longhand. How you have managed this, I do not know. As I wander forwards, my eyes feasting on the sight and my mind devouring your saccharine words, I feel like I have been transformed back into the naïve, inquisitive archaeologist I was before all this started.

It is a record of our time together; the laughs, the stolen moments aboard the Normandy, the tranquil embraces in defiance of the strife around us, the sensual kisses. I feel my cheeks heat ever so slightly as one of the notes teases a memory of my first attempt at baking; it was your birthday, and Ashley had insisted a surprise party would be incomplete without a cake. You were so gracious; despite only having just made my acquaintance, you refused to hurt my feelings, instead steeling yourself, wolfing down two large slices. It was not until I tasted it myself that I started feeling so ingratiated towards you, started grasping who you really were under all the armour you wore.

Other messages stir yet more memories; the beaches of Sri Lanka, the soft, white sand underfoot, the dazzling blue waves lapping carelessly against our feet as we walked, our fingers intertwined. Then, the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, a treasure so oft-overlooked in the face of larger, more galaxy-renowned names like the Smithsonian and the Agora of Athens. You looked so content just to see me wander those halls in barely-contained glee. You showed me the sights of Earth; Thessia was to be next on our agenda – I feel a stab in my chest as the image of my home burning rears its ugly head. But you saved us, and Thessia will be rebuilt; restored to its splendour and dignity for you to revel in.

Finally, I reach the door to our bedroom, my head light from all those jubilant memories your words have evoked. My heart is warm, and I am not even conscious of the dizzy smile which has plastered itself across my face. I need you, now. In anticipation, I tap the door open, but all the foreshadowing in the galaxy could not have prepared me for the scene within.

You have painstakingly transformed our ceiling into the night sky; the stars twinkling, every bit as inviting and alluring as they were the night we shared before the assault on Cronos station. In the background, so softly I almost have to strain to hear it, the soothing, harmonious asari music I first shared with you following the fall of Earth plays. You are leaning against the dresser, your arms folded and your head tilted to the side, the smile on your face so wide I worry it will split it in half.

"Enjoy the trip, Liara?" Your voice is soft, the tone reticent, almost as if you are unsure of yourself.

"Of course, Shepard. I've savoured every second. But… I… why are you going through all this trouble?"

The trail of rose petals ends at the threshold of the room, and you extend your hand towards me, unable to hide the joy on your face as you guide me in. I feel an object in my hand, and I look down, somewhat puzzled as I see that you have handed me a seed.

"Because, my dear, although I've joked about this many times and planted the seeds of this conversation, I realised over the two months I spent longing for you that I never actually showed you just how you _are_ my life."

I feel my heart stop as you drop to one knee. Ashley once showed me vids of human customs when I asked her about marriage. Emotion wracks my body, my throat is dense with it. With my hand covering my mouth, I can barely contain a cry of joy, let alone the tears streaming down my cheeks. I almost lost you twice; now this, this prospect of a lifetime with you fills me with more euphoria than a single person should ever deserve.

"Liara T'Soni," you manage, even as your voice cracks and your eyes glimmer under the light from the stars. "Words could never even begin to express what you are to me. You are my all, my best friend, my nourishment, my harbour. My life was an oblivion before you entered it, and I can no longer bear the thought of going on without you here, with me."

You take a deep breath, which hitches in your throat as you produce a box and open it. Contained within are an asari bonding bracelet and a beautiful diamond ring, the symbols of our peoples. You choke on your next words, even as your tears start to fall and your eyes dance.

"Marry me, Liara."

I pull you to your feet and into a fierce embrace as I laugh and cry into your neck. For a while, I am unable to speak, but eventually, I manage a whisper into your ear.

"There is nothing I want more in this world, Shepard. Yes… forevermore… yes."


	3. Chapter 3: All I Need

**A/N: yes I'm on holiday, but – as tayg so succinctly put it – in honour of romance… it's fluff o'clock!**

**It appears that a sweet tooth is a common trait amongst you people. Oh well, to avoid some serious health issues, here's something a little more savoury before sugar high you might just get with the next chapter. General steaminess to follow… just a little warning.**

**The events here were the request of Karmen Sandiego, cheers, buddy! Also – T. A. Blackwell… this is your kick up the proverbial arse… stop being coy and holding out on us, woman! ;p tayg… thank you for spreading the love, you superstar :) And lastly to James, the essence and energy of this story: ILY. It's a yes… **_**always**_** ;)**

* * *

"You knew, did you not?"

Ashley's smirk is maddeningly smug, although her eyes radiate a mirth which has been conspicuously absent these past months. It is nearly impossible for me to reconcile this Ashley with the one who so bitterly deserted you almost two years ago. While she was then choleric, condemning and dismissive, she is now unshakably loyal, a privileged confidante, and your fiercest protector against the prying, voyeuristic media.

"Of course I did, Liara… how else would Shepard get enough time away from you to do whatever it is she did?" Ashley shrugs nonchalantly, even as her grin widens and she winks. "Oh, and I want _all_ the details. Our beloved Commander is notoriously cagey when it comes to these things… the services of a Spectre don't come for free, you know."

I feel an all too familiar heat warm my cheeks as I try to hide my blush and giddy smile behind my hand. While you have been a friend and champion to so many, the side of you I have been so blessed to see is not one you readily share with anyone else. Should I tell her? I doubt you would be impressed; oh, the teasing you would endure! I laugh inwardly as the mental image of you furiously chewing on your lip, your face the shade of a Thessian sunset, comes to mind. You are so adorable when you are embarrassed by friends, when the real you breaks through the brave façade you maintain for all who still depend on you. The sight would almost be worth your good-natured ire.

Ashley saves me the dilemma; she rolls her eyes, laughing as she feigns an exaggerated shudder. "That bad, huh? Alright T'Soni… you're off the hook. As it happens, I'm quite attached to my teeth."

She drains her coffee, checking her chrono with a groan. "Will you look at that… it's nearly time to tango with the Council… _again!_ I suppose I should make the call in something other than my sweaty t-shirt and shorts, huh?"

I wrinkle my nose playfully as I let out a soft chuckle; all this earns me is a light, indignant punch on the shoulder from my friend. "Before you go, Ashley, I would ask a favour."

The Spectre raises a playful eyebrow, nodding. "Any reason to delay calling the Council is good in my book. What's up?"

I gesture to the bracelet and ring adorning my wrist and finger. "Our friends have to find out about this somehow. I would rather they did so from me than a tabloid. And… I think Shepard would enjoy seeing everyone again."

"Yeah… the nurses really were uptight about those visitor numbers, huh?"

"Yes," I say quickly, eager not to dwell on the time you spent in hospital; the fear of the possibility of permanent disability, the pain of separation and the loss of those we could not save is still too raw for me. "We have not managed to gather everyone together since the war ended. I was hoping we might address that."

Ashley's eyes twinkle as her spirits seem to lift. "Am I not the queen of surprise parties, Liara? Consider it done."

* * *

"Oh come on… please?"

Sitting on the edge of our bed, I half-turn, struggling not to burst out laughing at the lovably comical sight. You, the mighty Commander Shepard, saviour of the galaxy, stare at me with exaggerated puppy eyes, your hair cascading carelessly down your face, even as you make to bury your head in the sheets.

Unable to stifle a small chuckle, I playfully flick my wrist, azure fireworks punctuating a display of flying sheets as you yelp indignantly. "Get dressed, Shepard, or we will miss our dinner reservation."

You let out an exaggerated groan, playfully tugging at my wrist. An elfish look crosses your face as you exhale slowly against my skin. I find myself unable to pull my arm away as your warm, moist lips sweep over me, your need pulling me in. Goddess, you are so alluring; I feel my will begin to crumble, even as my heartbeat crescendos in my ears. Resigned, I lean into you, unable to supress a moan as you trail a searing path of kisses along my neck.

"Sh-Shepard…" my voice is trembling, barely more than a whimper. My hands are all over your body, even as you somehow surge forward, pinning me under you in an acrobatic feat which probably belongs in a circus.

"Dinner can wait," you murmur, an insufferable pause before you hungrily start working your way down my body. Somehow, though, your words make my eyes fly open. I am sorry, my dearest, but dinner _cannot_ wait. I cannot help but laugh at the adorable squawk which emanates from your throat as you suddenly find yourself suspended in mid-air, drifting helplessly towards our wardrobe. The look of eager anticipation you fix me with as I follow nearly breaks my resolve again; you must think we are headed towards the shower.

Your expression when I set you down in front of the wardrobe is priceless. It is a mixture of frustration, obstinacy and daring, as the spark which I have come to adore twinkles in your eye and your own biotics flare playfully. Goddess, how I want to abandon dinner and stay here with you; I try to convey this as I seductively close the distance between us, my fingers dancing lightly along your flat stomach towards your breasts. Your breath hitches in your throat as they reach their destination. My thumb runs over your hardened nipple as I whisper in your ear, my words hot against your face, my lips brushing against your earlobe.

"Later… I promise."

* * *

Though you claim I cheated – admit it, you would have used your biotics to restrain me too, had you thought of it first – I claimed the driver's seat fair and square. I am not letting you "bump into old friends" again, no matter how charming your smile or how persuasive your words. Your peeved pout is the icing on the cake as I lean back in my chair, a contented smirk spreading across my face. However, it seems that in your frustration, you refuse to let me revel in my victory, your relentless hands teasingly probing those infuriatingly sensitive spots along my legs and torso. The warm moistness of your breath against my neck causes me to shudder; it is all I can do to close my eyes and try to keep my breathing steady. Thank the Goddess for the sky car's VI autopilot capabilities.

The restaurant we are headed to is situated in one of the areas of Earth left completely unspoiled by the Reaper War. As we leave the familiarity and comfort of our apartment complex, I notice that your eye has been caught by the sight of the reconstruction efforts which engulfs us, your hands suddenly pausing in their ministrations. Sub-consciously, I start to cradle your head against my chest, stroking my fingers through your hair. I watch your face concernedly as your eyes take on an almost imperceptible glaze, the sparkle in them tarnishing slightly. They track the ruined structures slowly, making saccadic jumps to a new point of interest as their previous focus moves out of eyesight. Your dazzling eyes have always mesmerized me. Now, in them, I can see the reflection of rubble, the wrecking balls crashing towards crumbling skyscrapers, the heavy machinery sweeping through the streets, hauling away scattered debris.

I almost reach out to sweep my arm around your head, to obscure your vision so you do not have to see your home world still in ruins. But I stop myself; I know you would want to see this for yourself – thus far, the hospital and our apartment have been a peaceful sanctuary for you. I wish I could protect you from all this hurt, this anguish, this cruel cognizance. You were prepared to give up everything to protect your people, your home, your friends and… me. Surely you have earned the right to a reprieve from the horrors of this war, from the destruction you were powerless to prevent?

I close my eyes, feeling them shift and a stir within myself as I embrace you. You open yourself to me, inhaling my very essence with a desperation I have not sensed from you for months. I berate myself for not selecting a less ugly route – I foolishly forgot that the war has not been on your mind for some time now; perhaps you believed the recovery efforts to be further along than they really are. Even as I try to suppress my own pangs of guilt, I feel your devoted, empathetic, calming presence still me.

_Am I still the one leaning on you, Shepard?_

_Wouldn't have it any other way._

I feel a small smile spreading across my face, knowing you can feel it too. You need to learn how to let others share your burdens, Shepard. Stop being the keystone, the protector, the rock… even if it is for just one minute. I feel your almost bashful assent as you let me guide you away, let me transform the world around us. The ruins and debris fade away; grey, unfeeling asphalt morphing into golden, warm sand, the harsh clanging of metal and the rumble of crumbling concrete transposing into the careless ebbing and flow of ocean waves and the squawking of seagulls. The air smells salty, and the breeze is cool against our skin.

_The ocean lost its beauty without you, Liara._

I bathe you in the tenderness of the sun; those times are behind us now, and we have hope… hope for our homes, for our unborn children, for us. As if in unwavering affirmation, the sky car passes through Boston's Back Bay, the area which has seen the most concentrated recovery efforts. We become ethereally aware of the towering, colossal spires, their velvety curves, unwavering steel supports and glinting façades a tribute to the asari, turians and salarians respectively. The lush greenery, so tastefully positioned, adds a vibrancy to the world which contrasts beautifully against the deep blue sky and the warm sunset glow reflecting off the glimmering structures. Reluctantly, I withdraw. I could be with you like this for an eternity, but this, this is a vista you need to see.

The architecture of the new archologies is one of the main reasons the rebuilding took so long to commence. The Alliance wanted symbols; symbols of life, hope, faith, kinship and unity – the battle for Earth could never have been won without the collective might of the galaxy. As the city passes under us, nods towards the quarians, geth, krogan, volus, hanar, elcor, drell and all the other races who fought to preserve Earth become apparent. Even the batarians have been honoured, although I am unsure if the four sky care docks jutting out atop the concert hall could be considered an acknowledgement of the species.

A look of tranquillity comes across your face, and we both smile. Our children will have harbour in these cities, safe from the atrocities of war and the anguish of loss. They will have peace.

* * *

The sky car comes to a halt, and I glance down at you. Goddess, you are bewitching in your radiance… and I am the most blessed daughter of Thessia to have you. Your head rests on my chest, your thumb rubbing idly along the back of my hand, our fingers intertwined. Your hair feels so silky, so creamy against my cheek, and the arm I have wrapped around your shoulder rises and falls gently with each breath you take. I am recalcitrant to open the sky car door, to disentangle myself from you. But it is with a wistful longing that I do so – others are waiting on us.

I usher you towards the restaurant, as best I can in this form-fitting dress you so dearly love. I do not know what is worse… not being able to stop and appreciate the foamy Cape Cod waves and setting sun, or all this sand in my… never mind. You shake your head in confused recognition as we stroll past a sign which reads "Nirali's Song"; it seems fitting that our host should be the man you so gracefully helped all those years ago. There he is, standing by the door, a welcoming, appreciative smile on his face.

"Commander Shepard… Dr T'Soni. I am humbled by your presence. Please," Samesh Bhattia half-bows, dipping his head, almost in reverence of you, as he gestures towards the closed doors. "My discretion is assured."

Good, there will be no vultures to ruin this occasion for us. With a dramatic flair which surprises both of us, Samesh steps backwards, body still half-bowed, away from the door. There is a loud swoosh as it flies open, the dim surroundings of the porch instantly awash with light. We both blink rapidly, our eyes trying to adjust to the sudden change in luminosity.

"It's a krogan… it's a god… noooo… ladies and gentlemen… iiiiiit's… COMMANDER SHEPARD!" Joker's unmistakable voice howls, his glee barely contained at having been handed the microphone. Remind me to talk to Ashley about that one. I chuckle softly as I glance over at you; if only I had a camera! You stand, rooted to the spot, your jaw hanging so slack it cannot possibly still be attached to your head.

"C'mon skipper," Ashley appears beside you, throwing an arm around your shoulder as she drags you into the room to the sound of cheers and whoops from our friends. "I hear we have something to celebrate!"

The music starts, the heavy bass almost daring us to take to the dance floor. I know you are tempted, I can see it in your eyes, but there will be time for that later. Plus, love you as I do, none of us are quite inebriated enough for that particular sight… yet.

"Shepard!" Tali's squeal is instantly recognisable as she flings herself towards you in an enthusiastic bear hug. You will reward me for that barrier later tonight, my darling – I am sure you would not have appreciated another few days in hospital had Tali managed to tackle you to the ground. "Liara told me! I am so happy for you two! Adams told me all about human traditions on the Normandy… I'm going to be the godmother, or you can say goodbye to all your functioning tech!"

You snicker softly as you suddenly recover from your shock, warmly returning the quarian's embrace. "I'm not sure that's quite how that works, Tali…" you wink as she withdraws her head, almost in an attempt to fix you with an indignant glare. "But… I'm sure we can work something out."

"That's good, Shepard," comes a familiar drawl. Garrus is leaning against a chair, his elbow resting on its headrest, one leg draped lazily in front of the other. "Maybe that will give me a break from all the crazy kiddie talk that's flooded the house recently. Spirits, it's good to see you can still keep Tali's priorities in check. Rannoch seems to have sent her motherly instincts into overdrive."

You snort as you teasingly punch your best friend on the shoulder. "Thank heavens for that, Garrus. Those poor kids would be scarred for life with such a bad shot as a father… and you've got enough of those to scare away any sane woman."

"Oi!"

Laughter fills the room as more of our friends gather round.

"Jesus, ff-fuddy, Shepard, you look like the galaxy took a dump that's been left to stew."

"And you're a regular fucking fuddy duddy, _Jack_. There aren't any stu– ohh…" You spot the group of Grissom Academy students we rescued during the war over by the poker tables. They all seem well, thank the Goddess. Your soft, alluring chuckle is music to my ears, and I cannot help but snake my arm around your waist, my fingers trailing along your back deliberately. The sideways look you shoot me tells me you have felt every single one of my intentions. "Well then, best be on your best behaviour, eh?"

"Hey, Lola, you just gonna stand there?" James' arms are folded as he jerks his head towards the dance floor. "I've heard your dancing is…."

"No comment," Garrus quips, before others chime in with their contributions.

"Like watching an epileptic having a fit!"

"Seeing what it must be like to have a body-wide tic!"

"Like watching a drowning poodle flail!"

"Like imagining Javik doing the can-can!"

"Alright, alright… I can't dance… enough already," you retort good-naturedly, your hand finding the one I have resting on your hip. Cheekily, and unbeknownst to your friends, you lightly press the still-sensitive area you had so ardently suckled on this afternoon. I am grateful my sharp intake of breath is masked by all the shouts and cat calls. "Besides, James, I think your beautifully _straight_ nose is proof that there's someone who _dances_ more badly than I do."

"Shepard, I have it on good authority that Liara is pregnant."

Suddenly, the din dies down; the thumping music feels unnaturally intrusive amidst the hushed silence. The look on your face is one of shock, mixed in with elation, as you turn towards me. My attention, however, is dryly directed at the woman standing opposite us.

"EDI…" I warn, with a faint smirk and a gentle shake of my head.

"… That was a joke."

"Jesus, EDI… I see you still have a bit to learn. Lesson number one. Accidental pregnancies. Not joke material. Clear?"

We both blink as the synthetic actually giggles. "Of course, Shepard."

You turn your head towards me, as if making to whisper something in my ear. I should have known better. You deliberately maintain the act, moving your lips so sensually against my earlobe, your wordless whispers so warm and wet against my skin, making my heart race and my breath quicken. I can barely keep my eyelids from fluttering. Goddess, I should have known better than to start this little game.

Suddenly, there is a slight nudging at our feet. We look down, seeing a little squat creature nestling itself against your foot. It almost looks like a mini-volus… if there is such a thing.

"Shepard… meet… Shepard," Wrex's voice rumbles, his words swiftly followed by a dry chortle as he scoops up his child. I almost feel myself melt at the look of love, longing and joy in your eyes. This is what you fought for, your gift to the krogan people, to the galaxy. Oh, how proud of you I am!

"Uh… Shepard? Really? I hope the little thing gives you hell for that one day, Wrex."

The krogan battlemaster roars with laughter, slapping you a little too hard on your back. "If she's anything like her namesake, I'm sure she will!"

It is my turn now. I reach out with my free hand to cup the child's cheek, even as I turn my body to obscure the others' view. Deftly, my fingers find their way under the hem of your top, gently trailing along your bare skin; I cannot help the smug smirk which crosses my lips at the way your breath catches in your throat. For good measure, I toss in a pulse of energy at the base of your spine. I almost feel your knees weaken as your weight shifts imperceptibly onto me. I think I may just win this round.

"Come on, Shepard. Dr Chakwas looks like she has just the remedy for you," I tease, as I guide you to the table where Karin is sitting.

"Shepard, Liara. I understand congratulations are in order."

We both nod, smiling as we take our seats opposite Dr Chakwas – the table is a dangerous addition to our little game, as you instantly start running your hand teasingly against my inner thigh. Goddess, how do you know where to pause, when to quicken your seductive touch?

"Well, let me make this my engagement present to you two, then. Miranda and I have been doing some research into Shepard's implants, as you know." She pauses, handing me an OSD which she gestures for me to pocket. "Let's just say… I think the good Commander will outlive everyone in this room bar Grunt and you, Liara, and will probably see your children far enough into their lives to be a royal pain in their collective arses."

I feel my heart stop in my chest. Could it be? Oh Shepard, I know I said I would fully cherish what time we were gifted together, but… in my heart of hearts, I always dreaded when _that_ day would come to pass. Now… the possibility of more time with you… Goddess. My eyes brim with tears as our little game is briefly forgotten. I throw myself at you, completely oblivious to the whoops and cat calls which greet the action. I clutch at you so tightly I am surprised you can still draw breath… your embrace is equally forceful, and I can feel the sheer force of the flood of relief emanating from you. I know you never mentioned it, but whenever we were together, I sensed your apprehension, your fear, your dread at leaving me again, one final time. Maybe… just maybe… any more time is a blessing, one which we will gratefully accept, together.

You smile into my cheek as I suddenly feel a wave of desire springing from you. Your hands… oh Goddess, the invisible flares you are creating against my infuriatingly clothed breasts... I cannot help but press myself further into you, as my hands run down your spine, once again finding that hem, once again drinking up the glorious touch of your bare flesh against mine. The goose bumps on your back, your ragged breath in my ear, they make me want to run with you to the sky car, to fall into you and never separate from you again.

"_**Ahem!**_"

Joker… such brilliant timing.


	4. Chapter 4: A Little Less Conversation

**A/N: advisory – M rating will be earned forthwith; if you're not into that kind of thing… there's a "back" button ;). This chapter was co-authored (as if my bumbling lead-in deserves the "co-") by the prodigiously talented T.A. Blackwell, of **_**Only Human**_** (which if you haven't read, you must do – you can find it under "Favourite Stories" on my profile) fame. I am exceedingly grateful to her for not only stepping out of her comfort zone to aid me with this tale, but also for making the essence of this chapter fervently sincere, alluringly sensual and heart-warmingly sweet in equal measure.**

**All you darling readers out there, if you like what you read below, I would wholly appreciate it if you would, more so than usual, avail yourselves of some time to leave a word of appreciation for my dear friend's scintillating effort. I have been trying with limited success to convince her of the scene's brilliance; your affirmation of that will be rewarded with pixel cookies, cake and a continuation of both this tale and Nova et Vetera (and maybe also convince her to write / publish more of her masterful works).**

**Thank you for brooking my rambling. Now… on with the show :)**

* * *

The sky car journey home is serene and beautiful. Under the vigilant cover of night, we are mercifully blinded to the destruction surrounding us. Instead, our half-seeing eyes indulge in the scintillating stars dotting the clear midnight sky, our skin bathed in the pastel glow of the moon. We both sit in silence, content in each other's arms, lost in the residual energy of our engagement party and our idyllic dreams for the future.

"You're smiling."

"Hmmm," my hum is more an intuitive note of bliss than an actual response to your statement.

You nestle your head into the crook of my neck, your eyes wandering over my face, eventually riveting in on my own. There is such reverence in your features, as you reach up to trace a thumb over my cheek; I am still unable to fathom what I could ever have done to evoke such feelings from you. Your voice is barely a whisper as you speak, but your words reverberate within me as if they are my own.

"You once asked me why I chose to go out there and fight… why I couldn't just stay behind with you … get lost in the stars."

I nod against your hair, ruffling it, not wanting to interrupt your train of thought. You let out a soft sound of mirth as you bring your other fingers to my face, cupping my cheeks tenderly.

"It's this. You. Your freedom from strife, your safety, your deliverance. From the geth, the Collectors, the Reapers… from the corruption of indoctrination. I would give everything I am for you to spend the rest of your life like this... transcendent in your felicity."

Eloquent as ever, Shepard. Your words have always stirred such ardent feelings within me; this time is no different. I feel the familiar lump in my throat, the piquancy in my eyes as I comprehend what you are saying. I shift in my seat, twisting my body so I can face you fully, grasping you firmly in my hands. My voice is thick; I have never been this elated, but what you say… the thought of losing you again… it puts a dampener on my emotions.

"And you have, Shepard. _You have_. The galaxy is safe, Earth is safe, your friends are safe … _I _am safe. And now … we have this prospect … this _hope_ for a life … a _family_ together, impervious to the threat of war, sheltered from the base depravity of the Reapers. You have given everything; now … now you deserve a rest, time to enjoy the fruits of your labour. With me."

"Speaking of which … I saw you speaking to Dr Chakwas while I was –"

I cannot help the soft, amused snort which escapes my lips; this earns me a playful, indignant pinch from you. "… Dancing? Although … I am sure there are other words Joker would have used."

"Yes, well, laugh it up, T'Soni. And don't change the subject. What did she say?"

I shrug, a simple gesture I learnt from you, but which says so much more than words ever could. I make an innocent face. "I will have to look through the files she gave me. But, extrapolating from the rate of decay of your cellular tissue, coupled with the regenerative properties of the Cerberus implants, it appears as if I won't be rid of you as readily as I had hoped."

I cannot help but chortle at your slack jaw. I think you are still a bit unused to being the one on the receiving end of jokes. A roughish grin pirouettes across my face as I cup your cheek, then lightly run my hand downwards, over your chin, neck and chest. I stop just north of the spot I know you are hungering for me to brush against, chuckling softly as you reflexively push yourself closer to me. Through the soft fabric of your clothes, I can feel the reverberating bass of your heartbeat quickening, the rousing spur in your breathing. Feeling this, feeling your own hands start to wander teasingly across my stomach, my thighs, your humid breath on my neck, enkindles in me a familiar desire, an intensifying heat, a rousing twinge between my legs. Impatiently, I check how far we are away from home; I am almost beginning to regret my playfulness.

Thankfully, the discreet map in the corner of the dashboard informs me that we are only a few minutes out. Good. We have been at this little game since this afternoon, and I am almost wishing I had deferred to your stubborn insistence that we skip dinner. Absently, I am aware of your weight shifting, your head lifting away from the crook of my neck. I feel the soft pulp of your finger against my chin, the gentle yet firm pressure turning my head away from the dashboard and towards you. My gaze is directed downwards, as I drink in everything about you, every lustful curve, every infuriating barrier between us. I resist the overwhelming urge to mentally undress you as I slowly flick my shy eyes upwards to meet yours, a gesture which I know inexplicably makes your knees weak.

Every time our eyes meet like this, I feel… replete. I could lose myself in the fiery intensity of your longing forever; Goddess, one look like that from you is enough to cause that twinge to crescendo into a throbbing ache. The corner of your lips twitches as you slowly lean in to me, stopping so closely I can feel the electricity dancing across that infuriating gap. I know your lips have parted; I can feel your hot breath on me, almost taste your tongue on mine. My breath is coming fast now, and I can feel sweat begin to dampen my brow. Unable to bear the tension anymore, I eagerly surge forward, voraciously taking you into me.

The desperation with which I clutch at you would surprise me were I capable of concentrating on anything but you. Your lips are so soft, their velvety touch almost overcome by the force with which I crash into you. At once, your tongue is my mouth, its luscious, nectarine taste sweeping all over me, its damp heat causing the same to swell through my entire being. Somehow, I register that the sky car has stopped. You impatiently pull me towards you, lithely manoeuvring my body onto yours as you elbow the door open. I feel my chest burning for air, but I cannot tear myself away from you. In one swift motion, you are standing, cradling me in your arms as you fumble to access the biometric lock on our door. You stumble backwards as the door swooshes open, barely able to remain upright.

We immediately fall inside, the door automatically shutting and locking behind us. I am grateful for these little technological touches, as it means that we do not need to pause for even a moment. In the privacy of our apartment, my remaining inhibitions fade. My fingers slip into the softness of your tresses. I grip eager handfuls and pull you closer, tighter. My eyes open long enough to catch a sly smile snaking along your lips. You are amused at my zeal, but the fevered redness in your cheeks is a telling sign of the effect it has on you.

Without realizing that it has happened, you have spun me around and pressed me against the wall of our entryway. I try to catch my breath, but your mouth is on mine once more, and I cannot resist savoring you again. Fervently, my fingers curl in, enough that my short nails are digging into your scalp. You moan against me, your lips buzzing subtly against mine. Encouraged, I rake down along your neck, feeling goose bumps rise in my wake. Your sounds grow louder, despite being stifled against me, and you finally break away gasping, your breath hot and moist against the side of my neck.

"Liara …" you rasp, your tongue rolling over your upper teeth. Goddess, just hearing my name on your lips makes me light-headed, and I hastily grasp at your arm to keep from sliding to the floor. Craning my neck, I whisper my acknowledgement in your ear – my assent. "Turn around," you tell me, your hands on my shoulders, coaxing me. Your tone somehow manages to command and plead all at once, a combination that, bizarrely, makes me want you even more.

Obediently, though reluctantly, I pull my arms away from you and follow your direction. I do not even realize how much I am smiling until I break away from you and feel my cheeks ache. Facing away from you, I feel your exploratory hands on my arms, my sides, my crest. You are deliberately teasing me, and after waiting as long as we did just to get home, I am not sure that I can take much more. Just when I purse my lips, on the edge of asking you for more, I feel your fingers brush down from my neck to the zipper of my dress. With agonizing patience, you pull it downward, exposing my skin ever-so-slowly. I hear your breath hitch as you undoubtedly leer at my trembling body.

With a shrug, I slip out of the straps holding my dress up, and feel it slide down and pool against the floor. As you moan my name again, I battle my basest urges – I already want to reach out to your mind, twine with your consciousness. I want you to experience every emotion within my core as both our bodies and essences curl together and we search out ecstasy. As I feel my eyes begin to darken against my will, a gentle nip of your teeth against the crook of my neck grounds me, and I am thankful. I want to feel every caress before I get lost in the crashing waves of our meld.

Your hands roam over my newly-bared skin, and I know that you can feel me warming beneath your touch. Your tongue is against my shoulders, then my neck. Goddess, it's sliding up along the dips of my fringe, then along the ridges. I try to find purchase against the wall – something, anything, to keep me upright, and you chuckle lowly as you watch me struggle.

"I need you, Liara," you whisper against my cheek, punctuating your confession with a kiss to my jawline. Your face shifts to the opposite side, and again you speak, your voice even huskier than usual: "Please, Liara …" You always say my name; you know that it sends a honeyed chill up my spine. You draw out the 'a's as if you never want me to leave your tongue.

It is getting more and more difficult to maintain my balance, and were I not caught between you and the wall, I would assuredly have oozed into a puddle by now. You are apathetic to my obvious need to move to our bedroom; instead, you continue to toy with me. Your fingers wriggle their way to my front, tentatively sweeping over my navel, then up along the undersides of my breasts. I would think you cruel if you did not know how much I loved it. "Shepard," I start, inexplicably nervous. I am yours, and you are mine, yet I feel like the stammering naïf you rescued from that boiling planet so many years ago.

"What do you want?" you ask, smiling against my shoulder. This is a game that you love to play. You push at my boundaries – make me do and say things that I never thought I could … that I never thought I wanted. I try to speak, but I feel your breathing pick up and the telling sensation of hardening buds against my back. I have never been so resentful of a tank-top; Goddess, I want to feel your firming flesh directly against mine. Even more, I want to tell you … but I cannot force my tongue to form the words.

Reaching behind me, I stroke your cheek, beckoning you even closer. "I want …" I pause, my eyes closing as I search for what to say. "I want to thank you. I want to show you what it will mean … to spend your lifetime with me," I finally manage. My new bracelet brushes your skin; it is unintentional, but I smile at its meaning. To emphasize my words, I murmur your first name under my breath – a rarity. I feel your stomach suck in as if you have been tickled. You hold your breath, and then moan my name again. This time, the mirth has faded, replaced by appreciation and lust. Your fingers encircle my wrist and you pull me with you as you make your way deeper into our home.

I am unprepared for your reaction, but grateful. I am embarrassed by my excitement; in my ardor, I clumsily trip over my shoes and the bunched-up fabric of my dress. You deftly catch me and we laugh together, until you notice me admiring the muscular tone to your arms. Your eyebrow arches and you flick your tongue out impishly. How does such a playful gesture incite such a sweltering longing between my thighs? I silently praise my own willpower as I draw away from you and walk toward our bedroom. I would rather have leapt upon you and wrapped you in my limbs.

As we enter our bedroom, I feel your fingers hook impatiently into the waistband of my underwear. I narrow my eyes at you, a wordless reprimand acknowledging the disparity in our attire. You grin abashedly and instead pull your top up and over your head. Your hair is disheveled in its wake, which only endears me to you even more. Those locks strewn over your eyes, in tandem with your flushed skin, and your roguish expression … Goddess. That longing at my core has become a steady, throbbing beat. "You should help me with the rest," you suggest lowly, your voice a sultry growl.

"Gladly," I whisper back, my voice almost inaudible as I feel my cheeks begin to heat. I need you – more of you. I walk to the nightstand next to the bed and flick the switch on your lamp, casting the room in a dim blue light. You picked it out, telling me that blue was your favorite color. I still recall your coy expression as you told me that it reminded you of the glow of the Normandy's aquarium and the shimmering starlight that bathed our former bed. I simply smirked, stifling my giddiness, knowing the true implication of your remark.

I can see you properly now. Your gaze is unwavering, beckoning. I quickly close the gap between us, suddenly feeling predatory. My mouth is on you and I don't even know where – I just taste the inebriating tang of your skin, revel in the smoothness of it against my lips. You swear under your breath in appreciation, and it ignites a new fire within me. My fingers fumble with the fasteners on your bra; I feel like an awkward adolescent! You chuckle patiently until I finally undo the pesky latch, my eager hands quickly slipping beneath the fabric. "Goddess," I mumble. I would be embarrassed at how aroused I am by the feel of your warm flesh beneath my palms if I were not so caught up in my desire.

As I brush over one of your nipples with my thumb, just the way that you like to be touched, I cannot help but reminisce about our first experiences together – my foolishness and neuroses make me laugh now. I would be lying if I said that my cheeks did not purple when I think of my desperation for you, but I am no longer anxious about how to please you. Over the years, I have learned your cues: the moment your breath catches, the way you whimper my name, the tension of your muscles, the feel of your fingers gripping my crest. To think that I assumed I could simply find all the answers on the extranet! By the Goddess, I am thankful that you never found my copy of Vaenia.

Our mouths meet again, our tongues hungry for contact. I realize that I am not the only one overwhelmed by impatience when your hand grips mine, pulling it down to the hem of your jeans. My pulse is so heavy now that I feel delirious, but I manage to undo the button of your fly as you absently kick off your boots. Taking a step forward, I guide you to our bed until the backs of your calves bump against its edge. Our kiss breaks and you strip off your loosened bra, your chest heaving. I ogle you shamelessly, and although I expected myself to be enraptured by your breasts, it is your moistened, swollen lips that distract me. I surge forward and capture one of them between my own, sucking on it ravenously.

I do not know how much time passes, but I am startled when I feel your hand slip between my legs. My cry releases your lip, and I squeeze my thighs together, unwilling to let your fingers escape. Your forefinger lightly runs over the thin fabric of my panties and I fluster. Now you know how long I have been thinking about this, how much I want it. My eyes shyly dart toward the floor, and your free hand cups my chin, forcing my gaze back to you.

"Liara," you begin, your voice slightly hoarse. You kiss the corner of my mouth before continuing, "Touch me. I've been fantasizing about you all day." Somehow, you manage to read my mind even outside of our joinings. My hand wriggles its way beneath both of your layers of clothing and I draw in a sharp breath as I instantly feel wetness.

That is my breaking point. I withdraw my hand and shove you backward onto the mattress. You topple over in surprise and laugh at my sudden aggressiveness, and I cannot help but grin devilishly. You helpfully lift your hips as I grab the cuffs off your form-fitting jeans and tug them off with a flourish. Ah! Finally, some equity in our attire. That settled, I pounce atop you, my body writhing against yours. Your leg presses up between my thighs and I reflexively rock against it, desperate for the friction. I see your eyes squint shut and your jaw clench as my arousal hits your flesh. "My god, Liara. You are so fucking hot," you rumble, your hands on my hips, pushing me back and forth against your thigh. There is something unspeakably sexy about the way you devolve from stunningly articulate to wantonly crass.

"Goddess, Shepard, I …" I … what? I have devolved right along with you. Words escape me; all that exists is you and this building pleasure at my core. "Harder," I finally manage, and I am alarmed when you drop your leg instead. My eyes widen as I look at you imploringly, searching out your darkened expression. And then, Goddess! Your hand has replaced your thigh. Your fingers are inside my panties. Shepard, I … yes! Your touch is overzealous, but confident. You are already inside me before I realize what has happened. I throw my head backward and arch, bucking against your hand. I clench at your thrusting digit, my eyes watering. I ask for more… at least, I think that I do. At the very least, I mouth the word, even if no sound escapes my lips. You seem to understand as you push your middle finger in with the first.

I want to reciprocate. I want to feel you grind against my palm. I want to give you so much, but I selfishly take instead. I feel the damp sheen of sweat undoubtedly making my skin glisten in the room's dim lighting as I ride you, the tingle of biotics beginning to shoot along my veins and flare outward. It is time – I test your willingness as I reach out to you, my blue eyes swirling black. I feel no resistance; instead, you smile in adoration and murmur a quiet but distinct, "Yes." As my consciousness wraps itself up in yours, I feel warmth, wholeness. But, were I to tell the whole truth, I feel far more than love for you. I crave you. I am on the brink, and I show you that. I am, as you humans say, putty in your hands.

Your words tickle the back of my mind.

_Come for me, Liara._

Your eyes remain affixed to mine as your thumb grazes the hypersensitive bud above my opening, and I jerk as though an electrical current has shot through me. You squirm beneath me; I know you can feel the faint echoes of your own touches through our joining – something which has only exacerbated my arousal. I am close … so close …

I cannot properly describe what happens next. I know it is cliché, but Goddess, it is bliss. You deftly rub me as I throb underneath your thumb, and the ache I have felt all day long begins to intensify until I am nearly there. I hang on the edge, fighting it, prolonging the sensation, but one nimble stroke of your finger against a particularly delicate spot inside of me shoves me over the threshold. My muscles convulse around your fingers as I tremble erratically. I tumble forward, bracing myself with a palm against the mattress as my biotics pulse uncontrollably and I cry out in agonizing pleasure.

My thoughts are a jumble; my head is fogged. I struggle to catch my breath, to regain my bearings. I blink, my vision blurry around the edges, and I finally manage to find your face through the haze. You are smirking. Of course. I would find your arrogance infuriating were I not so wholeheartedly appreciative of your ministrations. I laugh despite myself, and then you join in – we are deliriously woozy, relishing the giddy sensation. My limbs feel unbearably heavy, so my body collapses limply atop you. The fingers of your free hand trace comforting swirls along my back, your touches feather-light and nearly ticklish.

I must admit, I feel drowsy. I feel as though I could curl up against your exquisite body and drift into a sleep full of the sweetest dreams. But never fear, my love. I would never deny you your turn. Your eyes widen and you waggle your eyebrows at me … what? Oh … no. We are melded. You can feel these thoughts now.

"Wow, I'm so glad you're willing to get me off, too, T'Soni. You're the most generous asari in the whole galaxy," you tease, withdrawing your fingers from inside me.

The fiery blush in my cheeks spreads all the way back to my fringe. I try to glare at you, but only end up giggling coquettishly instead. Although my muscles ache, I begin to crawl down your body, placing languid kisses against your collarbone, your breasts, your abdomen. I look up and see you conspicuously licking your fingers, and I can vaguely taste myself on the back of my tongue, thanks to the intensity of our meld. Even better, I … I feel how much you enjoy it. It is exhilarating, and I feel my yearning renewed, the pulsing returned. My fingers slide beneath the waistband of your underwear, and I slowly ease them all the way down your legs until you instinctively kick them off.

As my hot breath wafts over you, I feel you tense and I hear you whimper. I coax your thighs apart and I can smell how much you want me. Your wet skin shimmers in the blue glow of the room and I feel a longing tug at my gut. My eyes close and my head dips, my tongue flicks out and strokes you in a wide, long motion. Your taste is indescribable, and all I can think about is how much I want more. I wriggle between your folds, gathering more moisture, and you whine. I know this teases you; I know where you really want me to touch, but I selfishly take my fill of you, licking around your entrance.

Your fingers seek out the back of my head. They are still wet from my arousal and your saliva, making your motions all the more fluid as you fondle the length of my tendrils. Every touch makes me fidget, and it is not long before I feel compelled to humor you. My darkened eyes shoot upward to meet yours as my tongue ever-so-slightly makes contact with your firm, throbbing ridge. As you cry out my name, your thighs squeezing the sides of my head, I feel my heart seize with affection and desire. My eyes glaze over. I want to spend my whole life doing this, touching you, pleasing you, hearing my name cross your lips.

Then, I remember … I can.

* * *

**PS: remember – my gratitude, wedding bells and blue babies will be exchanged (held at ransom ;p) for your duly-deserved accolades for the peerless T.A. Blackwell. This chapter was all her, and she really did put a lot into it. Cheers m'dears.**


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